


Temporary Fix

by bokuakabeam



Series: BokuAka Week 2020 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Drinking, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Oblivious, Partying, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25632625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bokuakabeam/pseuds/bokuakabeam
Summary: “Tetsu, I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this.” Bokuto’s whine could be heard, seeing as it was more of a whisper-yell than anything remotely close to quiet.“Well you kinda have to, Bo. He signed the lease too. He has every right to be here just like me and you.” Kuroo, always the voice of reason.“Yeah but I didn’t know he was gonna parade dudes around every fuckin’ weekend either.”
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: BokuAka Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856998
Comments: 3
Kudos: 91





	Temporary Fix

**Author's Note:**

> BokuAka Week 2020 Day Two -- College/Roommates

By day, Akaashi was known around the apartment as just that. Or, more affectionately “‘Kaashi” or “AGHAASHI” — frequently by Bokuto when he was overexcited or in one of his moods. He’d only been living in the apartment for half a year, a semester in university, and he had yet to fully get comfortable there. It was just something about moving to a new place, away from everything you’d once known, and into the care and attention of two strangers you’d met off the internet. And although the younger man tried to act aloof, Akaashi couldn’t help but hold a certain warmth in his heart for his roommates.

Kuroo, for all intents and purposes, was a good guy. He kept his belongings to himself, he cleaned up any messes he made in the common areas, and he paid his fair share of the rent on time. And it came as a shock to Akaashi, especially after seeing the shit that Kuroo pulled on a daily basis, to find out that the man was actually kind of a genius. On more than one occasion, Kuroo had come into the kitchen or living room to witness Akaashi having an almost full-blown panic attack over a concept his brain couldn’t comprehend, and within minutes helped him to understand it. Akaashi had sat, frozen in shock, as the messy-haired man calmly and skillfully explained the topic in a way that Akaashi could finally grasp. Of course, that’s not to say that Kuroo is _only_ a studious individual. He liked to pull pranks as if he was Ashton Kutcher, he ordered food from two different pizza places to have them ‘duke it out’ once they arrived, among a myriad of other things. Akaashi really enjoyed Kuroo’s company, but it was the other roommate that he couldn’t seem to keep his mind off of.

Bokuto was… Different. Not in a bad way, Akaashi was always quick to assure himself of that. ‘Bad’ and ‘Bokuto’ should never be put in the same sentence unless they were paired with ‘at Monopoly’ — honestly, Bokuto still thought that Park Place was a good buy. Bokuto could easily be described as one of the kindest, most generous and sincere people that Akaashi had ever had the pleasure of meeting. He was quite similar to Kuroo in that they both spent ninety-eight percent of their lives at the gym — Akaashi would never complain about that though, aesthetically speaking — and Bokuto’s mindset closely resembled that of a child’s.

That is, if the child was extremely buff, semi-capable in a kitchen, and surprisingly kind of brilliant in certain situations.

Akaashi was eternally grateful to the two men for allowing him to move in on such short notice. University was scheduled to start soon, and Akaashi’s funding had been pulled due to his parents being absolute fucking shitdicks, and he was floundering in an attempt at normalcy. He’d been lucky enough to come across an ad online for two university students looking for a third roommate to share living expenses in an off-campus apartment. It also was in Akaashi’s favor that Bokuto and Kuroo had absolutely no clue how to conduct a roommate interview — meaning that they sat in an awkward silence in the apartment for five minutes before Bokuto asked ‘so how are you?’ to which Akaashi replied ‘fine.’ And then they had him fill out the paperwork and gave him the key.

Not to mention, they seemed to be more or less indifferent to the way Akaashi spent his free time. When he wasn’t sleeping or doing anything related to school, Akaashi liked to go out. And when he went out, he _went out_. It came as a shock to both of his roommates when they realized that Akaashi liked to party. The younger male originally had seemed, for lack of a better word, dull; Like someone that would stay in on a Saturday night rather than in a club, six shots deep, and riding a mechanical bull in _really_ short cutoffs — which, coincidentally, is how he’d spent the previous weekend. But Bokuto and Kuroo didn’t seem to mind the excursions outside the apartment, and even went so far as to join Akaashi from time to time. (Which Akaashi couldn’t really complain about either — Bokuto could hold his own when it came to liquor, and Kuroo was an extremely flexible dancer.)

The only time that Akaashi’s extracurricular activities seemed to become a problem amongst the roommates was during the awkward stage of Sunday mornings that were most commonly called ‘the morning after.’ Akaashi was adamant about not performing the ill-fated walk of shame — and he just felt more comfortable surrounding by his own belongings — so most of his interactions of the sexual kind would take place in his bedroom. (Kuroo coined the phrase ‘interactions of the sexual kind’ and Akaashi had gotten used to using it, even if it did sound like something from a book about alien abductions.) However, with each passing weekend, and with each passing sexual partner that Akaashi would send packing the second the sun rose on Sunday mornings, the tension in the apartment only seemed to grow thicker.

Akaashi couldn’t put a finger on what had changed. He still paid his rent and bills on time — or, at least, he gave his share of the money to Bokuto, who was in charge of the finances. He kept to himself for the most part, and made sure to wash any dishes that he found in the sink, regardless of if he was the one to use them or not. He was even in charge of the laundry more often than not, and actively went out of his way to collect Bokuto’s and Kuroo’s dirty laundry when he had extra room amongst his clothes. However, everything came to fruition one Sunday morning.

Akaashi had gone back to bed after giving a not-so-wistful goodbye to a man that he’d met at the bar the previous night. 5/10, would most likely not have sex again. But it was better than going to bed alone, right? Normally, he’d sleep until the break of 2:30 in the afternoon, but for some reason his brain was not shutting down. So rather than waste time in bed staring at the ceiling, Akaashi decided he was going to head out to the library for some much-needed study time. However, he was not ready for the conversation he could hear through the walls as he got dressed.

“Tetsu, I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this.” Bokuto’s whine could be heard, seeing as it was more of a whisper-yell than anything remotely close to quiet.

“Well you kinda have to, Bo. He signed the lease too. He has every right to be here just like me and you.” Kuroo, always the voice of reason.

“Yeah but I didn’t know he was gonna parade dudes around every fuckin’ weekend either.”

“He does like to party, I’ll give him that...”

“It’s not just regular partying though, Kuroo. He goes way too hard, he drinks too much, and then he fucks around with random guys. It’s just... It can’t be good for him.”

“Why don’t you just talk to him? You clearly have feelings for him, so maybe—“

“No, absolutely not. It’s only been a few months, Tetsu. I don’t want him to think we let him move in just to bang.”

“Isn’t that the reason?”

Akaashi had heard enough, and loudly slammed his bedroom door shut behind him as he stalked into the living room. The two men who’d been deep in conversation looked like deer caught in headlights, their eyes wide and mouths open.

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m heading to the library to study, so don’t let me interrupt your discussion over what a slut I am.”

“No!” Bokuto shot up from the couch, following Akaashi into the kitchen as the latter collected his things into his messenger bag. “It’s not like that, Keiji—“

“Don’t call me that.” Akaashi spun on his heels and sent a withering glare at Bokuto before brushing past him. “And how I decide to spend my time and who I decide to spend it with is none of your fucking business, Bokuto. Who the fuck are you to decide what’s good for me, anyway? You’re not my dad, and you’re not my boyfriend.”

Bokuto stood, shell-shocked, opening and closing his mouth showing that he was at a loss for words. He had his hand up, as if he was going to try to stop Akaashi, but the younger man was already at the entryway.

“Don’t follow me.” And with that, he slammed the front door shut behind him.

Sunday nights for Akaashi were not usually spent at a club — who even goes clubbing on Sundays anyway? But here he was, swaying his hips to the thrum of the bass, the flashing lights and loud music doing a great job of drowning out the negative thoughts that had riddled his mind the whole day. He couldn’t stop thinking about Bokuto and what he’d said, so he’d dropped off his bag once the sun had set, and went to go party.

According to Bokuto, that’s what he did best, right?

He felt hands grip his hips from behind, and normally Akaashi would swat away any aggressive advances like that, but his inhibitions were lowered and his mind was cloudy. So he allowed the hands to stay, and he even hung his body against the man behind him, wrapping his arms back around his neck. He could feel lips attacking his neck, and finally the alarm bells in Akaashi’s drunk brain started sounding, and he tried to pull away. The hands tightened their grip on his hips until Akaashi was sure he’d have bruises on his skin, and he could feel his chest tighten as he slowly realized the situation he was in.

“Get the fuck off me,” Akaashi shouted, his voice lost in the deafening sounds of the pumping music. He shoved his elbows back into the man’s stomach, and once he felt the grunt of pain against his neck, he quickly squirmed out of the grasp and made his way to the back of the buildings. Akaashi slipped into the bathroom, locking and leaning against the door as he tried to catch his breath. His hair was sweaty and matted to the skin of his face and neck, and his hips stung from the fingers that had been digging into them minutes ago. How many drinks had he had? How long had he been out? He couldn’t remember.

The only thing that pulled him from his own thoughts was a constant buzzing in his pocket. Akaashi panted as he pulled his phone out and stuck it to his ear, only to have to pull it away when someone began yelling.

“‘Kaashi! Oh thank God, are you okay? I’ve been calling you for, like, an hour now. You’re usually home by now. Are you okay?” Bokuto’s words were jumbling together, and Akaashi wasn’t sure if it was because he was drunk or because Bokuto was trying to fit in as many words as possible in as little time as possible. Maybe a little bit of both.

“‘M fine, Koutarou,” Akaashi mumbled, effectively silencing the man on the other end.

“Akaashi, you sound like shit.”

“Thanks, that’s such a turn on,” Akaashi sneered, sliding down onto the floor, keeping his back to the bathroom door.

“Akaashi, please come home. I need to explain everything— Kuroo was teasing me with what he said earlier…” Bokuto trailed off, and Akaashi could almost picture the gears in his head as he tried to figure out what to say next.

“I wasn’t pissed about what Kuroo said,” Akaashi admitted, trailing the tip of his finger along the fabric of his pants. Apparently being drunk made him more honest than he planned. “I care about what you think of me, Koutarou. So hearing you say all that shit about me…”

“Keiji, please,” Bokuto’s voice was pleading, and Akaashi could hear rustling on his end of the call. “Come home.”

“I need you, uh… I think I need you to come get me.”

“Where are you? Text me the address.”

With that, the line went dead, and Akaashi fumbled with his phone as he tried to send the address to Bokuto as quickly as possible. With the text finally sent with shaky fingers, he could feel a sense of relief wash over him. Bokuto was coming for him. After taking a few more moments to collect himself, Akaashi stood and brushed his pants off before exiting the bathroom. He stuck to the edges of the club, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible as he made his way towards the exit.

“Hey baby, going so soon?” Akaashi’s elbow was gripped and he was tugged into the chest of the man from earlier. Or, he could only assume it was the same man, seeing as he never saw his face. But those hands are what clued him in, as they roamed Akaashi’s body.

“I thought I told you to get the fuck off me,” Akaashi used as much of his strength to push at the man’s chest, pulling himself away from the prying hands and leering gaze.

“C’mon, don’t be like that. I can show you a good time,” the man was insistent, grabbing handfuls of Akaashi’s shirt.

Akaashi snorted despite himself, and looked up with a look of disgust apparent on his face. “That’s funny. If I wanted a joke, I’d follow you into the bathroom and watch you piss.”

“You’ve got a mouth on you, eh?” The man squeezed Akaashi’s cheeks with his large hand, and Akaashi looked at him defiantly, still struggling to remove himself. “I bet I can shut you up.”

“I _highly_ doubt it. Now get the fuck away from me, you smell like desperation.” Akaashi pushed at the man’s chest again, only to whimper when the hand left on his waist tightened, and he could feel his nails dig into his skin.

“Hey!” Suddenly Akaashi was on the ground, dazed and confused. He looked up, only to see a familiar broad back blocking his view of the rest of the commotion in the club. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“Koutarou,” Akaashi whispered weakly, his voice barely audible. His head was pounding, his chest hurt, and he wanted nothing more than to leave the club. “Please, take me home?”

“Who the fuck are you?” The man had asked, and Akaashi could faintly hear Bokuto scoff. In the months he’d been rooming with Bokuto and Kuroo, he’d never seen Bokuto this legitimately angry before.

“Why the fuck does that matter? He clearly wasn’t enjoying your _advances_ , if you can even call them that. Just fuck off, dude, alright? You look like you eat cigarettes for a living.” Bokuto sent one more glare the man’s way before turning and focusing all his attention on Akaashi.

Akaashi has seen many beautiful things in his life. Sunsets weren’t anything to sneeze at, babies being born and shit is called ‘the miracle of life’ for a reason, etc. But seeing the anger in Bokuto’s eyes dissipate into something softer the second his gaze landed on Akaashi was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever witnessed. The emotion that filled Bokuto’s eyes was not one that Akaashi was familiar with — at least not one he was used to seeing directed at him.

“Keiji,” Bokuto moved his face closer to Akaashi so they could speak quietly and still be heard amongst one another. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“N-No. Koutarou, please, can we go home?” Akaashi could feel tears stinging his eyes, and he _really_ didn’t feel like literally crying in the club.

“Of course. Can you walk?” Bokuto asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. He scooped Akaashi up in his arms princess-style, and sped out of the club before they could be stopped by anyone else.

The cab ride home was a tense, awkward one, the silence amid the two roommates unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Akaashi was quickly sobering up, the haze in his mind clearing as he ran over the events of the night in his head. What would he have done if Bokuto hadn’t shown up when he did? Bokuto paid for the cab and Akaashi didn’t have the strength to argue. As they slowly walked up the stairs towards their apartment, Akaashi couldn’t help but think about how Bokuto did so many things for Akaashi without asking for repayment. He helped with any schoolwork that Akaashi was confused with (if Kuroo wasn’t available), he gave him rides to and from school from time to time, he paid for his lunches when Akaashi forgot his wallet…

He would make sure to pay Bokuto back.

“Koutarou,” Akaashi stopped in the entryway, turning to face the older man as he shut and locked the door behind them.

“Yeah— Oof!” Bokuto grunted as Akaashi fell into his arms and pressed his lips roughly against his, gripping Bokuto’s shirt. “Keiji wait—“

“No,” Akaashi said simply, pulling Bokuto deeper into the apartment as he continued pressing kisses to his lips. Bokuto yelped in surprise when Akaashi pushed him back onto the couch, and a blush adorned both their cheeks as Akaashi moved to straddle Bokuto’s hips. He began hastily pressing kisses along Bokuto’s neck, tasting sweat and something distinctly _Bokuto_ as he moved down.

“Wait, Akaashi,” Bokuto whimpered, gathering strength to push at Akaashi’s shoulders so he could look the younger man in the eyes. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m repaying you.” Akaashi looked at Bokuto plainly, as if the answer was simple.

“Keiji,” Bokuto’s eyes were wide, and he very gently placed Akaashi next to him on the couch. “You don’t have to do _that_.”

“That’s all I’m good for, isn’t it?” Akaashi asked, and he winced and looked away when his voice wavered.

“Of course not!” Akaashi’s head shot back up at Bokuto’s outburst. “Keiji, you’re fucking incredible! You’re so smart and funny, and you’re like fucking perfect. That’s why I was so upset earlier. Not that you party and sleep around and shit because, I mean, you do you. But that you act like that’s all you deserve. You deserve so much more than that, Keiji. And yeah, Kuroo said that shit about only wanting you as our roommate because I thought you were hot. Which, I guess… Fuck, you’re hot Keiji. Like, I can’t fucking lie to you because goddamn, look at you. But that’s not the reason I want you now, you know? I got to know you and I fell for you so hard, Keiji, and like you’re so wonderful and amazing and… Shit. Am I making sense? I’m probably not. I just feel so full of adrenaline from when I saw that guy touching you, Keiji, fuck, I was so mad, I wanted to hit him—“

“Koutarou,” Akaashi interrupted Bokuto, because he knew that if he let him keep talking, he’d never stop rambling. Bokuto’s eyes darted back up to meet Akaashi’s, and there was that look again. That emotion deep in Bokuto’s eyes that Akaashi couldn’t place; one that he’d never seen directed at him before. It was so soft and sincere, and— Oh, why did Bokuto look frightened all of a sudden?

“— you okay? Did I say something to upset you? Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry—“ Akaashi tuned back in to what Bokuto was saying, and he could hear Bokuto fretting over him.

“Oh,” Akaashi spoke aloud, reaching a hand up to his own cheek and feeling the wetness. He hadn’t realized the tears had begun to cascade down his cheeks, but he realized how it came across to Bokuto. “No, Koutarou. It wasn’t you, I just— You look at me like that, and I just feel so much safer.”

Shit, was that too honest? Maybe he was still a little drunk.

“I want you to always be safe, Keiji. Even if it’s not with me, I just want you to be so happy and safe,” Bokuto spoke softly now. Slowly, as if he was worried he’d scare Akaashi off, Bokuto moved his hands to cup Akaashi’s cheeks, using his thumbs to swipe the tears away. “I really do care about you, Keiji.”

Another silence set over the two of them, but this time it was comfortable and cozy; just like how Akaashi felt when he was in Bokuto’s arms. And they fell asleep like that, Bokuto cradling Akaashi in his arms, holding him like he was afraid he’d be taken away at any moment.

It took a few weeks after that night for Akaashi to realize that he felt the same way about Bokuto. He’d never let himself think that way about anyone, especially his roommate, but the feelings kept bubbling to the surface. With every smile and kindness sent his way, Akaashi began to gather that maybe he _did_ deserve something good in his life, and maybe that something good came in the form of Bokuto Koutarou. Akaashi stopped going out so often, and he didn’t bring anybody home anymore, and instead spent his weekends making fun of movies with Bokuto or studying with Kuroo. It took a few weeks, but then Akaashi made his move.

“Hey, Keiji, Kuroo’s at the store, and he was wondering if we needed— Oof!” A similar grunt to the one he’d made a few weeks prior, but this time Bokuto’s arms wrapped themselves around Akaashi’s waist, pulling the younger man closer. “Keiji?”

“I really care about you too, Koutarou,” Akaashi murmured, his fingers playing with the hair on the back of Bokuto’s neck. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Keiji. That kiss alone was enough to get me through, like, eight lifetimes.”

Akaashi snorted and pulled Bokuto back down to his level, pressing another deep kiss to the man’s lips. “Shut up and kiss me more, Koutarou,” he mumbled into the kiss, and Bokuto did not let him down.

By day, Akaashi was known around the apartment as ‘Kaashi by both Kuroo and Bokuto, a shortened version of his name that he steadily grew to love. Sometimes, when Bokuto was upset or overly excited, he’d butcher Akaashi’s name into ‘AGHAASHI’, which was yet another nickname that Akaashi had to learn to live with. By night, however, he was known only as Keiji; when Bokuto would press soft kisses to his lips and along his skin, and would whisper sweet nothings into his ear as he drifted off to sleep.

On Sunday mornings, Akaashi was used to waking up before the sun even crested the sky and was desperately in a hurry to remove the random person in his bed so he could enjoy time to himself. But now on Sunday mornings, Akaashi would wake up to the sun just barely peeking over the horizon, and a warm body in his bed with an arm wrapped around his torso. He’d look over to see Bokuto, his hair in disarray, tousled from sleep, and face slack. The light from the morning would shine in between the blinds on his window, and it would dance on Bokuto’s skin, almost illuminating him. He looked ethereal, and Akaashi wouldn’t want to pull his gaze away. On Sunday mornings, when before he was so desperate to get away, he was now so desperate to remain there in Bokuto’s arms, for as long as time would allow.

He hoped that Bokuto would be his forever, just as Akaashi would be his always.

**Author's Note:**

> My [Twitter](https://twitter.com/bokuakabeam)


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